


Snow

by Lurlur



Series: Ineffable Advent Event [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables, Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Bashing some historians, Cuddling, Fluff, Ineffable Advent, Kissing, M/M, Snow, soft and gentle, thirsting over other historians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/pseuds/Lurlur
Summary: Day 2 of Drawlight's 31 Days of Ineffables advent eventAziraphale and Crowley have discovered the joys of kissing and are so distracted by it that they don't notice the change in weather.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Advent Event [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558564
Comments: 32
Kudos: 86





	Snow

Neither of them know when it started snowing. There had been other concerns to be getting on with, like drinking more wine, practising this new kissing business, and laughing at running jokes that had started in languages that no longer exist. Aziraphale notices it first, as fetching a fresh bottle of wine from the cellar takes him past a window.

“Oh, Crowley, it’s practically a blizzard out there. When did that start?” Aziraphale asks as he pours two more glasses of wine.

Crowley looks up from the book he was flicking through and stares out of the window.

“Huh, so it is. No idea, honestly. Couldn’t even tell you what the time is right now.” He waves a hand dismissively as if it’s of no consequence. “You’re right about this book, though. This Dan Snow fellow hasn’t got a clue.”

“Yes, I rather thought you’d agree on that. The things some people are able to get published.” Aziraphale shakes his head, taking the book from Crowley as he sits beside him again.

Crowley bites back his protest at having the offending book removed, realising that Aziraphale means to resume their cuddling. He snuggles into Aziraphale’s side and laces his fingers with Aziraphale’s to keep the embrace going.

The quick evolution of their relationship over the past few hours is both unexpected and relaxingly comfortable. Crowley can almost imagine that he has been kissing Aziraphale since he had lips with which to kiss. The length of their torsos pressing together in easy intimacy is wildly exciting and Crowley fears that he may wake up at any moment to find that this was all a horribly realistic dream. The surreal flurry of early December snow in London and the Christmas grotto feel of the usually unchangeable bookshop weren’t helping his sneaking suspicion that this is the result of a head trauma.

“I far prefer the work of Dan Jones, if I’m honest.” Aziraphale continues after some minutes.

Crowley looks up at him, trying to catch up with the conversation. It takes a second for him to place the name but, as soon as he has it, he smiles widely.

“Oh yes, I remember you inviting yourself over to watch his show at my place. I’m sure you find his research very, heh, revealing.”

Aziraphale bats at Crowley, an admonishment without any bite. There’s a very pleasing pinkness to his cheeks that Crowley reaches up to kiss.

“You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed.”

The tension in Aziraphale begins to release; as much as Crowley enjoys needling Aziraphale, he never wishes to cause actual distress. They relax into each other a little more, a subtle rearranging of hips and arms to better accommodate the closeness. The snow continues to fall outside, now watched by them both.

“I suppose I’d better go, before it gets much worse.” Crowley says without giving any indication that he actually intends to move.

“Nonsense, my dear. Stay as long as you like.” Aziraphale squeezes his fingers reassuringly.

Crowley lifts his head to look at Aziraphale again, he can tell that his face is doing something odd and hopes that he doesn’t look quite as awestruck as he feels.

“You ought to be careful with offers like that, angel,” Crowley’s voice is tight in his throat, “you never know how seriously I might take it.”

From the sappy, soft expression that Aziraphale is wearing, Crowley can tell that he’s missed the mark and his warning hasn’t been heard as he intended. Aziraphale kisses the top of Crowley’s head and whispers into his hair.

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it. Stay forever, if it pleases you.”

Crowley starts to laugh, a nervous thing that defends him from the sting that is surely coming, the misunderstanding that will have Aziraphale back-pedalling.

“I’d prefer it if you weren’t ever apart from me again, if I’m honest and selfish about it.”

Crowley’s tongue fumbles with sounds and breath, trying to say four cool things and eight love-drunk things at once.

“You’ll get sick of me soon enough.” He finally manages, sounding far more vulnerable and scared than he likes.

“I sincerely doubt that. But do stay until the roads are safe, at least. Please?”

Crowley has never been able to resist that plea, the face that accompanies it, the implications behind it. This is no different and, dimly, Crowley wonders how much Aziraphale might have used this to manipulate him over the previous centuries.

“I’ll stay, angel. I’ll stay.”


End file.
